


Get Me

by VerdantMoth



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Getting Together, I did, M/M, Snark, Stiles Stilinski Knows About Werewolves, Supernatural Elements, Wooing, all of this is ‘kind of’, i tried guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 14:03:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17850890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerdantMoth/pseuds/VerdantMoth
Summary: Stiles smirks at him and points, “You aren’t human?”





	Get Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CloveeD](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CloveeD/gifts).



> Pinch hit submission! I hope you like it!!

ForThe book lands with a thud on Peter’s desk. He takes his glasses off and stares at the student in front of him. “Stiles, you aren’t in my class.” 

Stiles raises a brow. “Yeah, ‘cause it’s graduate level and I’m only a undergraduate. Not the point?” 

Peter purses his lips and pokes at the dusty book, before eyeing Stiles once more. “Then what, exactly,  _ is _ the point, Stilinski?” 

Stiles smirks at him and points, “You aren’t human?” 

Peter studies him, cautious and curious. “Stilinski, have you ever heard it’s impolite to accuse professors of being… not human?” 

Stiles shrugs and taps the book. “It’s in here, your secret. I’m going to figure it out, Professor Hale.”

“And why is that?” Peter asks wryly. 

Stiles just grins at him and flounces out, saying “I read professor profiles.” 

 

\---

 

Stiles is persistent in trying. As in, he barges into Peter’s class at odd times, brandishing weird talismans and strange herbs, most of which he found on shady internet sites claiming to know anything. 

He’s never subtle about them, waving them in Peter’s face, brushing them against his skin. Sometimes he waltz in smelling like garlic, and it’s all Peter can do not to laugh. 

“So, the thing is,” Stiles says on a  Tuesday after he barges in, “Iron has to affect them all.” 

“What?” Peter asks, looking up from the paper he is grading. 

“If iron is going to affect a spirit or a witch or spirit or…” hey eyes Peter, “fae folk, it’s not gonna care about morals.”

“I don’t track,” Peter says, bored. 

“Iron reacts to the energy. Right? The uhm,” Stiles pauses, and Peter can see him trying to get his thoughts in order. “So like, it’s just metal. And spirits are just energy. Although, with witches I guess you could argue about the physical bodies but I’m assuming their magic is just energy manipulation.”  

Stiles pauses and taps his fingers on the desk, than slaps a disc into Peter’s hands. He pauses, frowning, and mutters, “Not a spirit.” 

 

\---

 

“Magic is energy. Manipulated energy right?” Stiles asks. He’s brought food with him this time, greasy smelling soup dumplings that make Peter’s stomach both roll and grumble. He cautiously nibbles one, eyeing the kid. 

“Dunno, I’m not magic,” Peter snarks.

Stiles rolls his eyes and waves a hand, “Semantics. You teach mythology. You know magic.” 

“Stiles, magic and mythology aren’t they same thing.” 

“Sure they are,” Stiles replies. “Anyway, how does a vampire manipulate the energy to stay young?”

Peter eyes stiles, “You’ll have to ask one of them.”

Stiles blinks at him. “I am.” 

Peter snorts, “Do I look like a man prone to avoiding the sun?”

Stiles flushes a little, before saying, “Everyone knows that’s a carefully manipulated lie in order to allow them to hunt.”

Now it’s Peter who blinks, “I’m sorry, what? Are you implying that Twilight got things right?” 

“Don’t be dumb, dude. I didn’t say they sparkle. But if you were gonna drink blood at night, what’s the best way to avoid suspicion?” 

Peter narrows his eyes. “Stiles, how much garlic is in the dumplings?” 

“Twice the usual amount,” Stiles answers.    
  
“And do I look dead?” 

“No.”

“Then get out. I have essays to grade.”

 

\---

Stiles takes Peter’s jacket. The Leather one with the fur collar. He takes it in the middle of winter, but he’s at least decent enough to replace it with a really thick, wooly monstrosity made of orange and blue patches.

Peter calls him. Stiles answers the phone babbling about whatever, but Peter cuts him off. “Give me my coat.” 

“You have to find it,” Stiles answers and Peter can practically see the glee in his voice.

“I’ll just buy a new one,” Peter growls. 

Stiles hangs up, muttering “Not Scottish then.”

 

\--

 

Stiles drops a book of moon cycles and snaps a picture of Peter when he looks up. 

“Interesting,” Stiles mutters. 

“Stilinski,” Peter growls in warning. “You’ve really got to stop barging in here and speculating.”

“It’s not speculating if I know,” Stiles says as smirks at him.

Peter gives him a bland look.

Stiles taps the book and then sets his phone down. “Glowy eyes, moon cycles, snark for days…” 

Peter raises a brow. 

“Werewolf!” Stiles crows triumphantly. “Which means you, Professor Hale, owe me a date.” 

“I’m sorry, what?” Peter demands.

Stiles hands him a creased and somewhat gross piece of printer paper. He taps it a couple times, right over Peter’s picture. “You said ‘Anyone who gets what kind of man I am, gets me.’ Well I figured it out, so I get you.” He smiles like he’s answered “What is life?”

“Stiles,” Peter says slowly, “you know there are other ways to interpret ‘get me,’ right?”

Stiles stares at him, frowns, chews his lip and then stares some more. And then Peter watches the light clock on in a beautiful flush that creeps from somewhere below his shirt up his neck, across his cheeks and to the tips of his ears.

Peter shrugs. “Since you did all of that, you might as well buy me dinner.”

Stiles smiles a blinding thing and it almost makes up for months of trying to expose/kill Peter. The Professor smiles a feral thing and pulls at the collar of Stiles’ shirt, tugging him into a grin. He lets his fangs poke and Stiles lips, and the groan totally makes it worth it. 


End file.
